


Prairie Life Redux

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [31]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Historical, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff, Prairie Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: Almost three years after her fool of a husband got him blown up in a quarry accident, Rosemary O'Malley was getting along just fine, thank you very much. She had a fertile farm, a lovely daughter, and now a helpful house guest in the form of her daughter's new schoolteacher.What? More prairie stories? Of course.





	Prairie Life Redux

The sun burned right through her bonnet. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back, soaking through her homespun dress and staining the light-colored fabric an off-putting yellow. Rosemary O’Malley grit her teeth. She gave the horses a light tap with the reins, pulling them back in line.

This would be her third harvest alone ever since her husband got himself blown up in a quarry for a railroad. The fool. He’d insisted on moving his wife west for better opportunities. They didn’t discover Rosemary was pregnant until it was too late to turn back. Giving birth with only a wagon covered in canvas to protect her, her husband an utterly useless lump when it came to midwifery, was one of the worst experiences Rosemary ever went through. Until, of course, a man knocked on her door to tell her that her foolhardy love decided to clown around with dynamite, leaving her and her seven-year-old daughter alone on a locust-ruined farm.

Everyone advised her to pack up and leave. Go back to her home back east, or at least move into a town where maybe she’d be able to find herself a job as a seamstress or housekeeper, and hopefully a man to remarry. No one was tactless enough to bring up work above a saloon, but Rosemary couldn’t say she hadn’t considered it during one of her particularly dark and desperate musings. But Rosemary had never followed advice particularly well. Tall for a woman, and unusually strong after living on the prairie for four years, Rosemary spent the winter stretching a penny as far as it could go, and when spring came, picked up a plow and got to work.

That first year had been hellish, even with Rosemary’s nightly prayers and the help of some of the local farmers. Most of them had, at first, thought it a grand joke. A lady farmer. Though women had more freedom out west simply because they had to do what they could to survive, they were far from equals. After two successful crops, Rosemary became just a novel establishment in their small community.

Still, as much as Rosemary felt satisfied with what she’d accomplished, she could have done without the blazing sun overhead at all times. Pausing just a minute to wipe at her drenched neck and face, Rosemary let out a low groan. Her back always did start to ache towards the end of the season. She sighed, only vaguely regretting letting Jane, her daughter, go off to play with her friends rather than continue the harvesting. But she was still a child, and deserved to have a bit of fun before school began again.

She’d just picked up the reins to begin again when a voice caught her attention. She turned quickly, startled at the sight of a small woman standing on the path at the edge of the field. The woman gave a small wave, one hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright sun.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Rosemary muttered to herself, securing the horses before gingerly making her way through the threshed wheat field. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I was wondering- am I near the O’Malley farm?” the woman asked, tilting her head back to properly look Rosemary in the eye. My, she was a tiny little thing. Rosemary raised an eyebrow, taking in her clean and proper dress and carefully pinned hairstyle, only slightly mussed from the ride from town.

“You’re on it,” Rosemary said, smoothing down her own wrinkled blouse and skirts. “Rosemary O’Malley. Can I ask why- oh! Oh!” A thought struck her. Rosemary flushed slightly, remembering that she’d been expecting the new schoolteacher’s arrival any day. She’d hoped whoever it was would have come at a time she wasn’t drenched in her own sweat and covered in dust. “My apologies for my appearance. You must be the new schoolteacher.

“Yes, that’s right,” the woman said with a nod. “Eliza Foster. Pleased to meet you.” She glanced behind her, and Rosemary noticed a small buggy with an impatient-looking driver. Goodness, was everyone going to see her in this state today?

Rosemary led Eliza Foster towards the front door, followed by the driver hefting Miss. Foster’s small trunk. The small woman clutched a carpetbag, and didn’t comment on Rosemary’s dirty clothing, thankfully. She sent the driver on his way soon after.

“It’s not terribly large,” Rosemary fretted, cleaning her hands with water from the pump. She hurriedly sorted herself out before turning back. “But the loft is all yours, so they’ll be plenty of privacy. The outhouse is just around the side.

She and Miss. Foster had had a short correspondence as they worked out the agreeable terms. Room and board in exchange for a bit of monthly payment and help with some of the chores.

“It’s a lovely home,” Miss. Foster said, admiring the curtains and glass windows. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you from your work.”

Rosemary waved that away, grateful for a brief respite from the harsh sun. “Here, let me give you the grand tour.” She, with a touch of pride, showed off her home to her new tenant. Then, causing Miss. Foster to gasp quietly before protesting, Rosemary easily hefted the trunk onto her strong shoulder and ascended the ladder to the bedroom loft.

“I- that was most impressive, Miss. O’Malley, but really, you might have been hurt,” Miss. Foster said once the trunk was safely back on the ground. She’d anxiously hovered a safe distance from the ladder, watching in awe as Rosemary had clambered up, before following.

“I’ve gotten rather strong over the years,” Rosemary said simply, glancing critically around the small loft. The roof was low enough she had to stoop to stand, though Miss. Foster seemed to have plenty of head room. She’d told Jane to make sure to remove her things, but one never knew with little ones.  “My daughter should be home soon. I know she’s looking forward to meeting her new teacher. It’s all she’s talked about. Jane loves school.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Miss. Foster said, running a hand over the patterned quilt spread out across the small bed. It was probably for the best Miss. Foster was so small, Rosemary thought. The Lord knew her own tall frame would never fit comfortably in the tiny bed.

“I’m sorry to have to run out on you like this,” Rosemary said after a long silence-filled pause. “But I really should head back out to the fields. The horses are probably getting impatient.” Miss. Foster nodded, hurriedly assuring Rosemary she’d be fine on her own. Rosemary gave Miss. Foster one last smile before carefully descending down the ladder.

Rosemary didn’t see Miss. Foster again until she came back inside to start supper. Jane, who’d returned home shortly before, was already stirring a pot over the fireplace. Miss. Foster was precisely setting the table.

“It’s almost ready, Ma,” Jane said, beaming up at her mother. “It’s okay. You get cleaned up. We can handle this.”

“I was just telling Jane how mature and grown up she is,” Miss. Foster said, adjusting her glasses. “She’s already told me all about the chores around the house. I’m particularly looking forward to acquainting myself with your cow and hens.”

Rosemary laughed, disappearing behind the curtain covering her room from the rest of the house. She quickly undid the buttons on her filthy blouse, and made short work of cleaning her face and upper chest. A few moments later, somewhat presentable, she emerged, and helped Jane take the pot off the fire.

“Miss. Foster, would you do us the honors of saying grace?” She asked, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. Miss. Foster nodded, bowing her head.

“Thank you, Lord, for this blessed meal. We give thanks to you and your holy presence in our humble lives. I am grateful you’ve guided me to Miss. O’Malley’s lovely home, and I hope we might get along splendidly. In Jesus’s holy name, amen.” Rosemary caught Miss. Foster’s eye and gave her a small smile.

As they ate, Rosemary was able to get a good look at her new housemate for the first time. She was a pretty woman, in an unassuming sort of way. At first glance, Rosemary thought most would simply overlook the tiny woman, but upon closer inspection, Miss. Foster had a quiet, scholarly quality about her that some found rather attractive. Her clothing, though. While very simple and practical, gave Miss. Foster away as someone who’d lived in larger cities most of her life. She looked like she was wearing a corset, for heaven’s sake. Rosemary knew some of the more well-off townswomen wore them. Mrs. Henries, the mercantile owner. Mrs. Miller, the postmistress. Not countryfolk though. Rosemary wouldn’t have been caught dead in one, given her daily life. She was sure she probably had one from her past city life, but couldn’t even begin to wonder if it would still fit.

From their letters, Rosemary knew Miss. Foster was a spinster, and an educated one at that. Well, as educated as women could be given the circumstances. She was cultured, and poised, and the eloquence of her letters had caused Rosemary to pull out her well-worn dictionary a fair few times.

Rosemary just hoped she wasn’t overly arrogant or quarrelsome. Considering how those had been words attributed to her many times in her life, Rosemary supposed she was being a bit hypocritical.

“Jane,” Rosemary said, nudging her daughter. “After your chores tomorrow, would you like to take Miss. Foster into town to help her set up her classroom? I’m afraid you’ll have to walk, though, Miss. Foster. I can’t spare the horses.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t mind the fresh air,” Miss. Foster said, standing to clear the table. “And I’d appreciate your help, Jane. If you’re not too busy, of course.”

“Oh, I’d sure love to help, Miss. Foster,” Jane said eagerly. “And the walk’s not that long at all!” Miss. Foster nodded at Jane, looking minorly amused at the girl’s enthusiasm.

Rosemary gave the girl a nudge, looking pointedly at the plates in Miss. Foster’s hand. Quickly, Jane relieved her of the dishes, carrying them to the sink. While Jane did the dishes, Rosemary took care of some final chores around the house. Finally, after hanging her blouse up to dry for the next day’s work, she came back inside to shoo Jane off to get ready for bed.

Miss. Foster sat at the clean table, tablet and pencil in hand. She chewed slightly on her bottom lip as she stared down at the paper, lost in thought. Before she could look up and catch Rosemary wearing just a house shawl over the top half of her shift, the taller woman ducked into her room to ready for bed.

“Good night, Miss. O’Malley,” Miss. Foster said softly shortly after. Rosemary could hear the soft creaking of the ladder as the small woman retired to bed. Wishing her a good night, Rosemary peaked around a makeshift divider, smiling at Jane who lay fast asleep on a small trundle bed. She’d personally thought the divider a bit much, but her little girl was growing up and had started liking a bit of privacy. She had a good feeling about this Miss. Foster.

But despite living under the same roof, Rosemary hardly saw Miss. Foster save for their meals. Between working to bring in the harvest, and Miss. Foster beginning her teaching, the two women were run off their feet.

Rosemary had secretly been worried when she saw Miss. Foster’s stature that she’d have difficulties handling some of the rowdier boys, but Jane came home gushing about how the small woman had made sure they were put in their place almost immediately, so Rosemary didn’t worry too hard.

She was a quiet woman. Polite and civil, but quiet. She helped Jane with her school work after supper, and Rosemary heard her softly humming to herself sometimes, but didn’t say much else. Which was perfectly fine considering both Rosemary and Jane hardy ever stopped talking.

Truthfully, despite hardly noticing she was there, having Miss. Foster around really did lighten the work load considerably. Though she’d assumed the other woman wasn’t used to working on a farm, Rosemary had no complaints about her work. Miss. Foster, though unaccustomed to doing laundry alongside a creek, or wrestling with a particularly stubborn cow, or hauling barrels of grain into the wagon, adapted remarkably well.

Sooner or later, Rosemary knew, it was bound to happen. Living in such a small house, the two women were bound to come across each other in the middle of the night, both struck with bouts of restlessness and both wearing just thin shifts and little else.

“Oh,” Rosemary said, stopping just outside the curtain separating her room. “I hadn’t realized anyone would be up at this time of night.” Miss. Foster stood by the window, gazing up at the night sky. Upon hearing Rosemary’s voice, she jumped slightly, whirling around. Her long braid nearly smacked herself in the face.

“My apologies, Miss. O’Malley, I hope I haven’t woken you,” Miss. Foster said, stepping back from the window. Rosemary shook her head, putting on a pot of coffee.

“Since you’ve seen me in my night dress, you’ll have to call me Rosemary,” Rosemary said teasingly. “Coffee?”

“Yes, thank you. And you should call me Eliza, then.” Eliza sat at the table, fiddling with the end of her braid. They sat in compatible silence for a long while, just sipping their coffee and enjoying the presence of another adult.

“If you don’t mind my saying, your hair. It’s lovely,” Eliza said, almost shyly. “The color, I mean.” Rosemary looked down at her mug, smiling despite her blush. She’d come to accept her red hair in her adulthood, though when she’d been about Jane’s age, the cruel teasing nearly made her want to run and hide.

“Thank you, I- I can’t take any credit, of course,” Rosemary said, glancing up. Eliza gave Rosemary a rare smile, brushing a few loose strands of her own hair out of her face. “I was worried, you know. When I was pregnant with Jane that she’d have hair like mine and be teased something awful. When she turned out blonde, I was more than a little shocked. Then it darkened to red, of course, but even so.”

“I think for a spell I wanted to have crimson curls,” Eliza admitted wistfully. “A bit impossible for someone of my ancestry, but a little girl can dream. I’m rather glad I have the hair I do, though. Also, I doubt you have to worry about Jane. She’s a spitfire, that one. Takes after her ma.”

“I shudder to even think of it,” Rosemary lamented, laughing. “Most would hardly call me a proper role model for a young girl. No, I do hope she learns a bit about refinement and intelligence from you.”

Eliza demurred, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Oh, I hardly think anyone would call me a proper role model for any girl. What with my being a spinster in my thirties and deciding to up and move west alone. Besides, your daughter is exceedingly bright and from what I gather it wasn’t her previous teacher that helped her along. I think more women should take a leaf out of your book.” Once again it was Rosemary’s turn to blush.

“You’re too kind,” she said, refilling both their mugs. “If only more people saw it that way. Alas, women cannot be without men and be successful. Well, I don’t have to tell you this. You know all too well. And let me tell you, you’re not missing much by not marrying. It’s better off that Jane takes after me rather than her hapless father. My husband – God rest his jackass soul – was a good man, but entirely too impulsive and stupid for his own good.” Rosemary chuckled at her own little joke, expecting Eliza to follow suit.

“Did you love him?” Eliza asked thoughtfully, instead. She looked genuinely baffled. “I- forgive me if I’ve overstepped, and I can’t claim to have any merit, but I can’t imagine the appeal to such a man. I don’t mean to offend.”

Rosemary stiffened at that. It was one thing for her to criticize her late husband, but quite another for this strange woman who’d never met Adam, and had never married herself. “I’ll thank you not to insult him. He may have been a fool, but he was my fool. And yes, I suppose I was never madly in love with the man, but I cared for him enough, and he was a great father, even if he was a poor husband.” Rosemary watched Eliza flinch, looking apologetic. She waved away Eliza’s request for forgiveness. No true harm done.

“Even so, it was not my place to say such things,” Eliza said. “And it’s not as if I’ve ever cared for any man before so I couldn’t possibly have any authority on what is and is not appealing.”

“Really?” Rosemary asked. Now she was baffled. “Not ever? You’ve never…you’ve never been courted? Never kissed a man? Never…never…” she trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Of course not,” Eliza said primly, smoothing her hair. “Between education, and trying to make a living, and generally being uninterested, I never really paid much attention to the opposite sex. And, well…I suppose if I’m being honest, they never paid much attention to me either. I’m not exactly a looker.” Her eyes briefly met Rosemary’s before she hurriedly looked away.

Rosemary tilted her head, trying to see Eliza through a man’s eyes. She didn’t quite understand how no man could have been interested in such a woman. She was quiet, small, hardworking, and certainly pretty though not stunningly beautiful in the subjective sense. She sat there, looking much softer than Rosemary had ever seen in her shift and barefoot. Granted, from just what Rosemary knew, she was also opinionated, decidedly not docile, and didn’t look as though she could have survived childbirth.

“Perhaps to men you’re not a looker, but if it helps, I think…I- you’re attractive to me. _Oh_! I mean, I think you’re- that it, you are quite pretty.” Rosemary cringed at her awkward compliment, flushing. Eliza chuckled, pressing a hand to her mouth. Rosemary relaxed, laughing herself.

The two women talked well into the night and it was only the sunrise that finally made them reluctantly part, separating to dress and begin their days. After that night, they became close friends, each making an effort to spend a bit of time together, sometimes joined by Jane, sometimes talking well after the young girl had gone off to bed.

Rosemary was eternally grateful she and Jane had come to trust and care for Eliza, and Eliza for them. She hadn’t liked Jane going off to school on her own, walking those long miles where anyone could have snatched her away, and she hated having to leave her for the week she went off to sell her grain. Staying with friends only made Rosemary slightly more comfortable, but now that they had Eliza, the mother could breathe easy.

So, wrapping up some food and water for the journey, Rosemary bid her daughter and her friend goodbye, and snapped the reins. Eliza and Jane waved at her from the doorway.

Not seeing either of them for a week was torturous made worse by the men who thought they could cheat a woman out of a tidy sum. But Rosemary had crossed this bridge before, and she knew exactly how to shame them into paying her her rightful earnings. Motivated by the need to be back home with Jane and Eliza, Rosemary finished business a few days early, leaving enough time to pick up a few necessities at the larger town’s mercantile.

She hesitated over a leather-bound journal, wondering if it was perhaps too grand a gift for a woman she’d only met a few months prior. But then, Christmas would be here before they knew it… Rosemary bought the journal. And, of course, a few lovely things for Jane as well.

She made good time returning home, and as she cheerfully rode over the final hill, she could distantly see Jane frolicking near the hen house, probably taunting the poor things, even if she swore it was the other way around. As she rode closer, Rosemary caught sight of Eliza placing a freshly baked pie on the windowsill.

And Rosemary had never been a quiet woman, no matter how much her mother had once lamented. She gave a loud holler, causing both of her loved ones to look up. She laughed in delight as Jane broke into a run. And though Eliza followed at a more dignified pace, she still kicked up a fair bit of dust.

“Ma! You’re back early,” Jane yelled, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. Rosemary pulled up the horses lest they accidently trample the poor child. She jumped down, careful to avoid tangling her skirts in the wagon.

“How long have I been gone? You look like you’ve grown half a foot!” Rosemary teased, easily lifting her daughter and twirling her around. She tried not to dwell on the fact she wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer. Jane was growing like a weed. Something else she’d gotten from her mother.

“Ma! It’s only been a week,” Jane protested, grinning broadly. “C’mon! Miss. Foster’s waiting!” Rosemary lifted Jane into the wagon. She even let her hold the reins the rest of the way home. Even if it was just down the road.

Eliza met them just outside the yard. She’d composed herself, but couldn’t help smiling as she offered a hand to help them both down. Though it was really more of a politeness, considering both were much taller than the small woman.

“I take it things went well for you then?” Eliza asked, beginning to unload the wagon. She turned her head towards Rosemary, and the redhead caught a glimpse of another smile.

“Oh, I managed well enough,” Rosemary said evasively, shooting Eliza a wink. The smaller woman looked away, flushing. “Bought a few little things, but you’ll both have to wait until Christmas. Now, do I smell pie?”

“Yep! Miss. Foster was worried you wouldn’t be home in time to have any,” Jane said, hefting a small crate. “She’s been a right worrywart since you left, Ma. She says she didn’t, but I think she missed you.” Eliza sighed heavily, her small blush deepening.

“I was perfectly fine, thank you very much,” she said primly. Rosemary just chuckled, winking once more.

 

Rosemary was glad to be home. The harvest had been a great success, and they had more than enough to last through the winter, though Eliza’s modest teacher’s salary certainly helped boost their security. And it was nice not to have so many backbreaking responsibilities to see to each day. She supposed the one benefit of being a woman farmer was that she didn’t have any job when the seasons changed. If one could consider that a benefit. Personally, Rosemary wasn’t so sure either way.

The chill in the air meant the days of bathing in the little creek were numbered. It was well into their property, and surrounded with trees and greenery enough that it felt private and secluded. She knew Jane and her friends sometimes went swimming there, even if Rosemary didn’t let her daughter bathe out in the open air. No, much better a young girl have her privacy in their home.

But Rosemary hadn’t been a young girl for some time. And there was nothing quite like swimming in the crystal-clear water. So, when she was sure Jane and Eliza would be in town for at least a little longer, she gathered a bar of soap, a washcloth, and a blanket to dry off with.

To avoid wasting time, she’d unpinned her hair at home, letting the red curls blow about as they pleased. She groaned, running a hand through her scalp, happy to be free of the tight pins.

No matter how many times she’d done this, it always filled Rosemary with a bit of a thrill, and she had to check several times for any unlikely intruders before she quickly shed her clothing. It was cold enough that she considered leaving her shift on, but then, she reasoned the wet fabric would only make it colder. So, with a slight giggle, she lifted it over her head, and undid her drawers, leaving her bare skin exposed to the air.

She’d just finished scrubbing herself off when she heard a soft gasp. If the wind hadn’t carried it right to her, Rosemary would have missed it completely. She whirled around, covering herself in a panic.

But it was only Eliza. She stood at the banks of the creek, clutching her own bathing supplies and looking thoroughly shocked at finding her friend in such a state.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, looking away. “Shall I just come back later then?” Rosemary relaxed, swimming closer.

“There’s plenty of room for two, if you don’t mind,” Rosemary said, watching Eliza’s face for any sign of scandal. The smaller woman seemed to consider it, then to Rosemary’s surprise, she placed her things a safe way away from the water, and began undressing.

They shyly looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Rosemary had never seen Eliza’s hair out of its bun or braid. It looked lovely, floating in the water like that, and she said so. Rosemary couldn’t tell if Eliza’s cheeks turned red because of the cold or something else.

“This is all a bit naughty, isn’t it?” Eliza said with a small laugh. She made short work of scrubbing herself off, before turning her attentions to her hair. Rosemary had expected her to be shyer about their states of undress, but she seemed perfectly at ease. The two women giggled, acting like schoolgirls.

“Oh, yes,” Rosemary agreed, paddling around leisurely. It was warmer if she kept moving. “I haven’t been skinny dipping with anyone else since I was about Jane’s age. What about you, Eliza? I bet you had quite the wild childhood, my dear.”

“Oh, please,” Eliza scoffed, rinsing the soap from her hair. “There were certainly no creeks in the middle of the city where I grew up. I wouldn’t normally been caught dead in such a scandalous state.” She crossed her arms over her small breasts, adopting a mock-demure scoff that quickly turned into a surprised shriek as a wave of cold water cascaded over her head.

Rosemary laughed, skimming over the water as she fled from a revenge-seeking Eliza. Taller, stronger, she easily kept just out of reach, flicking water back as she went.

“Oh!” Eliza lunged, half-blind without her glasses, and miraculously she collided into Rosemary’s strong frame. They both gasped, face inches away.

Rosemary’s heart suddenly felt as though it could leap out of her chest at any moment. The water was deeper here, and Eliza unconsciously clung to Rosemary’s arm to stay above water, leaving them so very close. The taller woman could feel Eliza shivering slightly. Could see her wide-eyed uncertainty. And Rosemary was suddenly very, _very,_ conscious of both their breasts, brushing with barely a millimeter of water between them. Her eyes flickered down to Eliza’s lips of their own accord.

“We- um- it’s getting cold,” Rosemary said, trying to sound as casual as she could be. Eliza nodded, backing away. She gave Rosemary an uncertain smile, calming the other woman ever so slightly.

They dressed with their backs to each other, shivering in the cold air. But if Rosemary thought Eliza would turn tail and run, she needn’t have worried. They talked amicably all the way back to the house.

But that night, as she listened to Eliza’s soft footsteps above her, readying for bed, Rosemary lay awake, heart once again pounding. She couldn’t understand it. Why Eliza’s presence could fill her with such strange confusion and longing. Though they’d only know each other a scant few months, Rosemary trusted Eliza implicitly. With her home, her daughter, her own very life if it came down to it. This queer feeling. This strange affection. But though Rosemary felt certain this was not a normal emotion felt of a friend, it didn’t scare her.

She went to sleep with a smile on her face. Eliza was a dear friend, and a lovely woman. Why shouldn’t Rosemary feel affection for her?

Neither woman let on that anything strange had occurred in the creek, and Rosemary was grateful. Not even Jane seemed to notice anything different. And perhaps had the season been warmer, nothing might have even come of it at all.

But the air grew frigid, and the sky white with snow clouds. And the cold had a peculiar way of bringing people closer than they’d ever been.

Eliza stood at the window, peering out from behind the curtains. “If the snow keeps up they’ll be no school tomorrow,” she remarked, sounding hopeful. “I do hope Jane’s okay.”

Jane had run off early that morning before the snow started to play with a friend in town. Rosemary had advised her to sleep over if the snow became too heavy, and she dearly hoped her daughter had been sensible.

“She’s a smart girl,” Rosemary said, trying to sound hopeful. “She’ll be fine. Oh, listen to that wind.” She joined Eliza at the window, suppressing an imagined shiver. Outside, the wind howled like wild beast. They both stared out into the swirling snow, the white bright against the darkening sky. “I should check on the animals before we go to bed.”

As a precaution, Rosemary tied a length of rope from the house to the barn. That way if the snow became too much, she’d be able to find her way back.

The animals were a bit restless, but otherwise alright. She layered a few blankets on each of them, made sure they had unfrozen water, and gave them all one last pat before making her way back inside.

“It’s brutal out there,” she gasped, gratefully slamming the door behind her. Her skirts were soaked after the short walk, and she didn’t even want to mention her shoes. Eliza hurried to her side, drawing her over to the fire.

Rosemary would have liked to sit up through the night, just talking. But the night was frigid, and their beds so very warm. It must have been just past midnight when Eliza finally stole away up into the loft, and Rosemary behind the curtain.

The redhead had just settled down, teetering on the precipice of a restful sleep, when a loud crash jarred her awake. She gasped, sitting upright in her bed. Above her, she heard Eliza’s soft cry, and Rosemary was up the ladder in an instant.

Ignoring the glass, Eliza hurried to the small window near the bed. The wind had blown a broken branch right into it, shattering the glass. She reached to pull the shutters closed, miraculously avoiding the sharp shards.

“Are you alright? Be careful of the glass,” Rosemary warned, drawing Eliza back. They both shivered as the wind snuck through the compromised window.

“Would you get a bit of canvas from downstairs? We can tack it up to keep the wind out. I’ll clean this glass up,” Eliza said, reaching for a broom in the corner. They made short work of the mess, but even with a double layer of canvas, they could still feel the wind sneaking through.

“Come downstairs tonight,” Rosemary said. “You’ll freeze up here, and we’ll be warmer together anyway. My bed is much too large for just me tonight.”

They hurried back down the ladder, both nervous for reasons they couldn’t quite understand. But huddled underneath the warm blankets, with just a few inches between them, the two women shared a secretive smile. They whispered conspiratorially, giggling like children, and Rosemary felt warm. She took a deep breath, and worked up her courage to ask just one little question.

“Eliza,” she said heatedly, and something in her tone made the other woman turn serious once more. “I- I was wondering. And think nothing of it if it offends you in any way. But- but well…you are from the city, right? And they’re certainly more worldly. Have you…have you ever heard of a woman who…who might fancy someone…atypical? Another woman, I mean.” She bit at her lip, flushing as she looked at Eliza’s contemplative expression. Well, she hadn’t run screaming from the bed, so Rosemary took it as a good sign.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard about such women,” Eliza said at last. “It is not…unappealing. I- I’d wager it would be less awful than men, at any rate. Um, did you want…” Rosemary nodded, only partially sure she knew what she was agreeing to. But when Eliza shyly crept closer and raised a hand to brush a stray lock from Rosemary’s cheek, she knew they were on the same page.

That first kiss was clumsy and stilled. Both women were unsure of themselves, though not of each other. Rosemary pulled back, chuckling as she blushed. Then, taking her time, she leaned in once more. And that time, with Rosemary carefully guiding Eliza, it felt truly miraculous.

What began as chaste and sweet soon deepened as passion gave way. They pressed flush up against each other, hands clutching faces and hair. Rosemary inhaled deeply, sighing in pleasure at Eliza’s pleasant scent. Without noticing, she’d begun to slowly rock her body into Eliza’s. An ache spread throughout her body. One she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It had happened just once. On her wedding day when her husband hadn’t yet disappointed her. But Rosemary would remember that blissful ache any day.

“I’ve never…” she said at the same time Eliza said, “I’m not sure…” They both laughed, tension easing. Eliza motioned for Rosemary to go first. So, hesitantly, almost shyly, Rosemary asked if perhaps they’d like to continue kissing. Eliza nodded quickly, looking flushed and utterly lovely. So they did. They kept kissing, lips soft and full, until Eliza accidently brushed against the side of Rosemary’s breast with her hand.

“Oh,” Rosemary moaned. She turned pink, embarrassed at herself as she looked down and just barely saw her nipples pressing against the thick fabric of her nightgown. Eliza looked fascinated. Her own, though smaller, were just as hard.

“I- there’s such a queer sensation in my…” Eliza trained off pointedly, too proper to specify. “I’ve never…is this…what happens next?” And Rosemary remembered Eliza had never wed. Had never shown any interest in a man. Had never even kissed one, let alone been intimate with anyone, man or woman.

“I- I’m not sure,” Rosemary said, voice even huskier than usual. “I’ve never…never either. Um, but perhaps we might…touch each other? We don’t have to if you don’t want, but it feels…nice.” Eliza nodded, biting her swollen lip.

“Could…I mean…since you’ve…you have some relevant experience, could I…touch you first? If you want…” Rosemary immediately nodded, feeling almost relieved. The ache between her legs had only grown stronger and she hurriedly rucked up her nightdress and pushed down her long underwear until the disappeared somewhere under the sheets.

Eliza moved slowly up Rosemary’s thigh. Rosemary shuddered, her flesh tingling everywhere Eliza touched. When she got to the unruly patch of hair just above Rosemary’s womanhood, she paused.

“Is this okay?” she asked, looking into Rosemary’s eyes. The other woman nodded, squirming. It felt so strange to feel another person’s hand down there. To feel any hand at all. She’d only ever quickly washed herself before moving on. Never touched with such curiosity and wonder. Never ran her fingers through the soft, damp curls. Never traced the puffy flesh with a fingertip. Rosemary made a small noise in the back of her throat, rocking her hips ever so slightly. When Eliza let one finger slip between the folds, she audibly groaned. Never had she been this wet down there. It was almost embarrassing. But Eliza didn’t seem at all perturbed. She ran a finger up the length, exploring.

“Oh!” Rosemary gasped, eyes widening as a jolt of pleasure went straight to her womanhood. Eliza instantly pulled back, afraid she’d hurt her. “No, please. Please, will you…touch there again, please. I- I didn’t know such a spot existed.”

Eliza did as Rosemary requested, and the redhead felt the softness of her fingers tracing a spot towards the top. A little buttonlike area that made her shiver each time Eliza brushed over it. Rosemary squirmed, letting out little whimpers of pleasure. Her eyebrows knit together, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

Seemingly pleased with herself, Eliza continued to trace little circles around the little button. She moved clumsily at first, and so slow, but soon enough found a consistent rhythm.

“Oh, please,” Rosemary begged, though she was unsure what she was begging for. But the longer Eliza stayed in that spot, the better it felt and the more Rosemary wanted.

“This is okay here? You do not want me…inside?” Eliza clarified, touching just a bit harder. Rosemary shook her head hurriedly.

“No, right there, please,” she moaned, her voice strained. “There is so much better. Oh! Oh, Eliza! I- yes, yes!” It felt almost too much. Her entire body trembled. When at last her body orgasmed, though she knew not what that meant, her eyes flew open in shock and her back bowed. She let out a long, drawn out moan, her fingers digging into the sheets. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, if she clutched Eliza like she so desperately wanted to she’d likely snap her in two.

Eliza watched her in awe, her fingers still working even as Rosemary writhed. Finally, overwhelmed, Rosemary gently nudged her hand away. She felt sweaty, and satisfied, and wonderful.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said lazily, rolling onto her side to face Eliza. The other woman was staring at her wet fingers curiously, intrigued. Blushing, Rosemary handed her a rag from the tableside.

“Would you…please?” Eliza asked, swallowing thickly. Rosemary nodded, drawing Eliza close. Together they managed to wrestle her long underwear off, and Rosemary carefully ran a hand up Eliza’s soft thighs.

She was so small, so slight. Her flesh soft rather than Rosemary’s more muscular frame. She was so very pretty. Especially her little gasp when Rosemary found that special button. Unlike the other woman though, Eliza approached love-making like she did most things. Softly, politely, quietly. She made the tiniest little gasps of pleasure, rocking her hips into Rosemary’s unskilled touch. Eliza was so restrained, if Rosemary’s hand hadn’t felt her tremble and muscles contract, she never would have realized Eliza felt the exquisite pleasure she had before.

“What a wonderful experience,” Eliza said, somewhat breathlessly. She turned, drawing Rosemary in for another kiss. They both giggled, unable to stop smiling. Neither woman even for a moment stopped to consider that they’d committed a grave sin in the eyes of their God. After all, how could He who made them, not intended for them to feel such pleasure?

“I believe I may love you,” Rosemary whispered. Eliza snuggled closer, repeating Rosemary’s words right back to her.

Outside, the winds raged. But inside, the two women kept each other nice and warm all through the dark of night.

They made sure to wake early, lest Jane come bounding home and discover them. The snow covered the ground, well over a foot high. With no way to reach the schoolhouse, and likely no children to teach, Eliza curled up by the fire, a book in one hand, and Rosemary’s in the other. She only let go to allow Rosemary to tend to the animals. And, after a reluctant sigh, bundled herself up to help clear a path to the outhouse and barn.

As she’d expected, Rosemary did the bulk of the work, leaving the smaller bits to her tiny…lover? Could Rosemary consider Eliza a lover? That seemed far too dirty a word for such a proper woman. Sweetheart sounded too childish. No, perhaps her love. Yes, her love.

Smiling at the thought, Rosemary didn’t see the snowball until it collided with her shoulder. She whirled around, narrowing her eyes playfully. Eliza looked innocently back, making a good show of pretending to shovel. Rosemary didn’t buy it for a single minute.

Reaching down, she scooped up a handful of snow, tossing the ball up and down menacingly. Eliza slowly backed away, laughing.

“Better run,” Rosemary warned, pulling back her arm, Eliza squeaked, ducking. She just narrowly avoided the cold ball, and instantly returned fire with one of her own. Rosemary wasn’t certain if she was simply an easier target to hit or Eliza had a particularly good aim, because she seemed to land more shots than she missed.

They frolicked around, tossing snow at each other and nearly tripping over their skirts. Whooping triumphantly, Rosemary finally landed a few good shots, sending Eliza into a fit of scandalized shrieks. She stepped towards Rosemary but got tangled in her skirts and the deep snow, and fell into the soft wet bank.

“Are you alright?” Rosemary asked, hurrying over. Really, it was a foolish mistake, and Rosemary couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it coming. Certainly, she’d pulled the same trick on her daughter over the years. But as she reached out to help Eliza up, the smaller woman yanked her down, forcing her face first into the snow. She screeched in outrage, as Eliza scrambled up and hurried away, laughing.

So focused on each other, neither woman heard Jane’s shouting until she was almost home. Rosemary looked up from the snowbank she’d fallen into, waving at her daughter merrily.

“Jane! Oh, hello, Mr. Cooper! Thank you for walking all this way,” she called, standing up and brushing herself off. “You both must be freezing. Come inside, and I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Beside her, Eliza struggled to stand up, self-consciously smoothing her coat and hat.

“Were you making snow angels?” Jane asked, clumsily walking in her oversized snowshoes. Rosemary nodded, helping her steady herself.

Mr. Cooper graciously declined her offer of coffee. The skies looked like they were threatening to start up again, and he really needed to get going just in case.

“Did I miss anything/” Jane asked as the three of them headed back inside to change into dry clothing. Eliza and Rosemary shared a secretive smile.

“A branch broke the window up in the loft,” Rosemary said, throwing more wood onto the fire. “When the snow melts I’ll see about fixing it, but Eliza is going to sleep downstairs until I do. It’s just too cold now.” Jane shrugged, and didn’t think twice about it.

But Jane wasn’t oblivious. She knew something was going on between her mother and her teacher, but it wasn’t until she really stopped to think about it that she realized it. For one thing, even weeks after they fixed the window, Miss. Foster still stayed downstairs in Ma’s bed. Which Jane didn’t believe was so strange. After all, it was much warmer closer to the fire, and she knew Miss. Foster ran cold.

But the two seemed so close, and so quietly affectionate. The thought that women could feel the way her Ma and Miss. Foster felt about each other didn’t even cross Jane’s mind for a long time. Then, Christmas came.

The three of them sat in front of the fire, stockings dangling, and cookies set out for Santa. They took turns telling stories of Christmases past, and of what they hoped for in Christmases future.

And her Ma and Miss. Foster sat just a bit closer than most friends would. They touched each other just a little longer. Jane didn’t realize how she couldn’t have seen it before. That night, for the first time ever, Jane didn’t wait up to see if she could spot Santa Clause. No, she stayed up to watch Ma and Miss. Foster.

Through a gap in the privacy curtains, she watched with a faint smile on her face as Miss. Foster slipped into Ma’s rocking chair, resting her head on her shoulder. They held each other tenderly, just rocking.

“Think she’s asleep yet?” Miss. Foster whispered gently, glancing at the curtain Jane hid behind with a fond smile.

“Soon enough,” Ma said, playing with Miss. Foster’s hair. “Merry Christmas, my love.” And her Ma placed a kiss on Miss. Foster’s lips. And Miss. Foster kissed her back.

Jane stole back to bed, feeling warm and cozy inside. She’d always hoped her Ma would find someone she could grow old with. Someone right. Someone who could love her and care for her in return. And she was glad it could be someone as nice as Miss. Foster.

In the morning, Jane made sure she made plenty of noise just in case the two women needed a moment to pretend they didn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Still in their nightdresses, the two women emerged from the curtain, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” Eliza yawned, putting on a pot of coffee. “The stockings will still be there in a few hours, Jane. And it’s Jesus’s birthday, not ours.”

“Still, just because it’s early doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves,” Rosemary said, gently leading Eliza into the rocking chair. “Besides, I know for a fact you’ve been sneaking around trying to find your gift early. Jane, would you take the stockings down, please?”

Jane nodded, giggling. She bounced on her toes until Rosemary motioned for her to open it. The young girl laughed in delight, pulling out a peppermint stick, a pair of blue mittens, and two green hair ribbons.

“I thought green might go nicely with your hair,” Eliza said shyly. “I could always see if I could exchange them if you’d prefer something else.”

“I love them, Miss. Foster, thank you!” Jane exclaimed, hugging the startled woman tightly. Eliza patted the girl’s back, unable to help her touched smile.

Rosemary watched, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Moments like these, they felt almost like a little family. Well, a woman could dream.

“You next, Miss. Foster,” Jane said eagerly, thrusting her stocking at her. Eliza blinked at it in surprise, but reached inside and revealed a homemade embroidered bookmark. The stitching was a bit crooked in the corners, and it wasn’t the straightest cut, but it was perfect.

Jane anxiously hovered nearby.

“She’s been working on it all month,” Rosemary revealed, proudly hugging her daughter.

“It’s exquisite,” Eliza whispered, holding it as though it was the most precious thing in the world. “Oh, thank you, Jane. Thank you so much. I’m so grateful to- to be spending this holiday with the two of you. It’s one of the best I’ve ever had.”

“Wait til you see what Ma got you!” Jane exclaimed, racing off to get the package out from underneath her bed. The one place she knew Eliza hadn’t looked. She came back and held out the package, grinning broadly.

Rosemary watched in amusement as Eliza took it, looking perplexed. Obviously, judging by the size and shape she’d guessed it to be a book. Carefully, with maddening slowness and delicacy, she peeled off the wrapping.

“I- Rosemary, it’s beautiful. You shouldn’t have. It’s much too- oh, it must have cost you dear,” Eliza protested, but she clung to the journal as though she’d never relinquish it again. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, looking almost overwhelmed at having received anything at all.

“I saw it and I knew you had to have it,” Rosemary said, smiling tenderly. She gracefully knelt on the floor next to Eliza’s chair. “I thought about writing a little something inside the cover, but you’ve always been the better writer and I thought I’d leave that up to you.”

“I’d be honored if you would,” Eliza said, touching Rosemary’s cheek. Then, conscious that Jane was still in the room, they both looked away, blushing.

To cover up their little slip, Rosemary reached for her own stocking, appropriately awed at the thoughtfulness of her daughter and Eliza. “What a wonderful Christmas this has been. And I’m so grateful God has seen fit to bring you into our lives, Eliza. You are such a blessing.”

Eliza looked away, smiling despite herself. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I- It is truly you and Jane who are the blessings,” she said. “I have- I do thank God every day for you both.” Jane grinned and immediately threw her arms around the small women. And despite her initial surprise and hesitation, Eliza returned it wholeheartedly.

“I’m just glad you and Ma found each other, Miss. Foster,” Jane said, smiling shyly. She snuck a look at her mother. Rosemary stared back nervously. Jane couldn’t be referring to anything other than their joy on Christmas morning. Eliza’s eyes darted from redhead to redhead.

“What do you mean, Jane?” Eliza asked, keeping her voice level. Jane fiddled with her new ribbons awkwardly.

“Just- I’m glad you’re happy. We don’t have to talk about it,” Jane said, looking at them pointedly. “But I think it’s sweet.” Instantly, Jane found herself engulfed in two sets of arms, nearly squeezed to death. When at last she struggled free, giggling all the while, she saw both her Ma and Miss. Foster wiping away tears.

“I think,” Eliza said, voice wobbly. “I think under the circumstances you can call me Eliza. And thank you. For everything my dear.” Jane just nodded, grinning broadly. Rosemary gave her another crushing hug, unable to quite keep the tears fully at bay.

They were their own little family on a farm out west. Not conventional. Not at all acceptable. But a family nevertheless. Not quite a little house on the prairie, but close enough.


End file.
